His Last Defense

by Karen Rock

  “She’s just driving straight. She’s not fucking turning.”

  Shit.

  “Hang in there, Nolee,” he urged. Helplessness crashed over him. He wasn’t in control. Couldn’t rescue everyone, including the ship and the catch. Couldn’t get them all to safety. A damned unfamiliar feeling. But not entirely uncomfortable.

  Why?

  Because you trust her, came the sudden, unexpected thought. In fact, when push came to shove, he couldn’t think of anyone else he’d rather have by his side in a situation like this than Nolee.

  Could that extend to other parts of his life?

  Dylan shifted his balance expertly as the floor rose beneath him and spray obliterated the view from the window. His gaze swung to the fathometer as it began beeping loudly.

  Fifteen and a half feet.

  Beeping. Thirteen.

  Nolee shoved to her feet and snatched her walkie-talkie.

  Ten feet.

  Ten feet!

  “Turn those pumps off, Wesley!” Nolee roared into her handset.

  “Copy that, Captain.” At the sound of the engineer’s voice, Nolee dropped back into her seat and continued wrestling with the Pacific Dawn. “Come on. Turn!”

  “Faster. Faster,” someone chanted behind them and Dylan pivoted to see most of the rest of the crew now bunched up behind them. They looked haggard and electrified, over-bright eyes in gray faces.

  “Go. Go. Go!”

  “Come on, turn!”

  “One and a half million dollars,” said Stu, pointing downward. “Right there.”

  “I’m going full steam,” Nolee gasped and swiped at the sweat rolling down her brow.

  White exhaust billowed from the stovepipe outside.

  Flint stumped forward and peered over Nolee’s shoulder at the odometer. “It’s pegged!”

  The Pacific Dawn couldn’t go any faster. Would she turn aside in time before slamming into the sandbar?

  Nine point eight!

  Beep beep beep beep beep...beep...beep...beep...beep...

  The vessel swerved at last with a grinding scrape and the shrilling depth reader gradually slowed. Then quieted. Dylan released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

  Ten feet. Fourteen. Twenty.

  “Oh she’s doing fine now,” crowed Stu.

  “Yeah! That’s what Captain gets paid for,” whooped Tyler.

  “Nice,” observed Jo, who set a water bottle beside Nolee.

  “That wasn’t fun for me, guys.” Nolee’s laugh shook slightly and then she lifted the water bottle and slugged back a long drink.

  “Wow that dropped fast. When it got down to ten feet below the keel...” Stu shook his head. “That scared the shit out of me.”

  Nolee screwed the cap back onto her bottle. “Same,” she admitted, then spoke into her handset again. “I think we can kick those pumps back on, Wesley.”

  “Sounds good to me, Captain. Over.”

  Stu clapped Nolee on the back. “Nice work and good luck through the rest of the pass. I’m hitting the rack.”

  The rest of the group vocalized their admiration then disappeared downstairs, leaving Dylan alone with Nolee.

  The humming engine filled the sudden quiet.

  “Good work, Captain,” he rasped, then swooped down to plant a brief hard kiss on her mouth before he stepped back to his station at the window.

  “Child’s play,” she bragged, her expression cocky as hell and so damn sexy. Hunger for her surged. She was such a mix of vulnerability and bad-girl attitude. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of exploring her contradictions. Inside and outside the bedroom.

  “Oh, and Dylan? Thank you. I’m—uh—glad you’re here.”

  It was at that moment, as he looked at her serious face, heard her admission and understood what it must have cost her to make it, that he knew his feelings for her could no longer be considered casual. Or simply physical. Or short-term.

  “I—I—” The shock of this knowledge drove his voice from him, and he shook his head mutely. He found his thoughts suddenly, irrevocably, drawn to his upcoming transfer, and he felt exposed, flooded with regret.

  “I—I’m always here for you, sweetheart,” he said at last. The endearment stumbled off his tongue, as did a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep.

  But damned if he wanted to take it back.

  She held his gaze for one more moment, then nodded before returning her attention to her controls. “Good.”

  Outside, the Bering Sea raged along with his thoughts.

  He had no business making pledges like that. Not when his approved transfer papers probably awaited him in port. Yet quitting Kodiak no longer appealed to him.

  He wasn’t ready to leave Nolee just yet.

  Logically, he knew it made the most sense for them to part ways at the end of the opilio season. Nolee never wanted to leave Kodiak and his career demanded that he travel. If she followed, she’d feel isolated, separated and stifled. And one day, she’d come to resent him.

  But the idea of moving away bothered him now on a fundamental level. He’d never been the kind of person to start something he didn’t finish. More than that, Nolee meant something to him...probably more than he cared to admit.

  Was he being selfish by indulging in this short-lived affair? Neither one of them was cut out for casual. What’s more, they had too much history to avoid going deep.

  Yet just like the now-crippled Pacific Dawn, he couldn’t easily navigate away from his feelings.

  Or Nolee.

  13

  “YOU CLEAN UP NICE.” A mischievous twinkle flickered in Dylan’s gaze as they stopped at one of the Chart Room Grill’s windowside tables the next afternoon. Outside, swirling snowflakes transformed Dutch Harbor into a snow globe. Powder-covered ship masts rose tall and stark white; church spires punctuating a gray sky.

  Despite her bone-deep ache from offloading tons of crab last night and an equally strenuous, exhilarating night in Dylan’s arms, her senses leaped wide awake. Her heart beat double-time at his flirtatious look and the sexy timbre of his voice.

  His big shoulders angled over hers as he pulled out her chair, drawing his chest into agonizingly touchable range. She remembered how it felt to be crushed up against his solid, unyielding body. She wanted nothing so much as to put herself there again, and forced herself to sink into her seat to put distance between them.

  How could she respect the boundaries in a no-strings-attached relationship when they were together all the time? When she wanted him every minute of it!

  Besides, she had much more serious plans for Dylan than hauling him back to her stateroom for another steamy tryst. His mother was waiting in town to meet with him, and Nolee had to convince him to see her.

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” she drawled. It was a vast understatement. His curls had grown out enough to swirl over his brow and flip above the tips of his ears, the ends damp from a recent shower.

  His sculpted face, rugged and sun-darkened, dragged the air clean out of her every time she looked into those emerald eyes. In a body-hugging red thermal shirt and fitted jeans, he’d never looked more handsome.

  “Not so bad?” Dylan asked, dubious, amused, one side of his gorgeous mouth lifting. He slid into the chair opposite hers and arched a brow.

  She buried her nose in the menu. Peeked over the edge. “Stop staring,” she chided, unravelling at the steady heat in his eyes, the way his boot tip slid over her ankle beneath the table—back, forth, back, forth. Her body revved.

  “Good afternoon,” chirped their waitress. She set down two filled water glasses. “Do you need a few more minutes to look at the menu or do you know what you want?”

  Dylan’s nostrils flared. “I know what I want,” he said w
ithout taking his eyes off Nolee. Then, “Ouch!”

  He reached down to rub the spot she’d kicked and she grinned to herself. “I’ll just have coffee, thanks.”

  “And you, sir?”

  “Hydrocodone and shin guards.”

  “Excuse me?” The waitress lowered her notepad. A line formed over her nose, bisecting her brow.

  Dylan waved a hand. “Forget it. Coffee and...” He paused then asked Nolee, “Don’t you want anything to eat?”

  She twisted the napkin she’d dropped in her lap. “No. I thought we could talk first.”

  He snapped his menu closed and set it back on the table. “We’ll keep these for now then, thanks.”

  The waitress bustled off at his words.

  Dylan reached over the table to take Nolee’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb in lazy circles on the inside of her wrist. Her flesh tingled, trembled and tightened where Dylan touched her. Heat pulsed through her legs, making her glad she wasn’t on her feet. She wouldn’t trust herself to stand with her muscles melting at his caress.

  “What’d you want to talk about?”

  Reluctantly, she pulled her hand from his. “Someone might see us.”

  He surveyed the room, skeptical. “This isn’t exactly a sailors’ hangout.”

  She took in the carved light fixtures, the gleaming tiled floor. “True.”

  “So who’s the mystery guest you told me to dress nice for? Am I going to meet your mother at last?”

  “A mother, anyway.”

  His grin faded slightly. “What do you mean?”

  Spit it out, girl.

  “I invited Marlene to join us.”

  The skin around his tightly clamped mouth whitened. He blinked at her, then shoved back his chair and stood.

  “I’ll see you on the boat.”

  She wrapped her fingers around his strong wrist. Dylan twisted back to face her.

  “Please, Dylan. Just hear me out.”

  A muscle in his jaw jumped.

  “Please.”

  “What time is she getting here?”

  Nolee pulled out her cell phone and waved it. “She’s just waiting for me to call.”

  Dylan leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Five minutes. Then I’m outta here, Nolee.”

  Five minutes to undo decades’ worth of pain? Not happening. But maybe, if she could loosen up his resistance a little, it would give his mom an opening to get through to him. She might not ever have closure on her issues with her father, but Dylan...he had a chance she’d never get, and she wouldn’t let him squander it.

  “Four and a half minutes,” Dylan said, glancing at his watch.

  “Oh. Thanks.” Nolee accepted the mug of coffee the waitress set in front of her and lifted the pungent black brew to her mouth. Blew on it.

  Stalled, basically.

  Weighed her words.

  She had to get this right. Tread carefully.

  “Dylan. You’re an ass.” She winced as she sipped her scalding coffee.

  There. Just the right amount of delicacy needed to get through to this thick-skulled knucklehead.

  “If this is your idea of therapy, don’t quit your day job.” His quirked mouth took the zing out of his statement.

  “How are you ever going to figure things out with your family if you’re always running away from them?”

  “You’ve got that backward. Remember? They were the ones never around.”

  “Yes. But I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about you.” She blew the curling steam off the surface of her brew and drank again.

  He was quiet for a minute, then, in a voice ragged with emotion, said, “So I’m to blame for them not caring enough to want to—oh—I don’t know...raise their child?”

  “No. That’s on them. All I’m saying is that you can only control you. Stop shutting people off, turning your back on them.”

  A gust of arctic air blew inside with an arriving family. They gathered at the hostess station, stamping feet and rubbing gloved hands.

  “I don’t...” He closed his mouth as she stared him down, eyebrows raised. “Fine.” He let out a breath. “With you. And I was wrong to do that. But them... Come on, Nolee. You know how they are.”

  “No, I don’t know how they are.” Well. She did know one thing Dylan didn’t know, and damn it, he needed to stay here and listen to what his mother had to say. “And I’m not turning my back on them without considering every angle, like you do.”

  “But I don’t...” He swore under his breath at her steady look. “Okay. Guilty.”

  “Stop distancing yourself from emotionally challenging times. Face your mother. Hear her out.”

  He glanced down at his watch. “Time’s up.”

  She bit her lip. Shook her head. “I’m on your side, Dylan.”

  “It’s not looking that way, sweetheart.”

  “Maybe not. But I am. Your mother loves you. And your father, too. He’s counting on you seeing him. It’d mean a lot to him.”

  She didn’t dare say any more about his father in case she spilled a secret she’d promised to keep. But Dylan really needed to know...

  “Right.”

  “They do,” she insisted. “Every time I run into your mother she’s always bragging about you.”

  He sputtered on his drink. Set down the cup. “You’re talking about my brother.”

  “Nope. Not unless he joined the Coast Guard and rescued six from a sinking ferryboat during a hurricane last year.”

  He angled his head and his narrow-eyed gaze roamed the wall over her shoulder. Behind her, a child began to fuss.

  “And where did she say that happened?” he asked, dubious.

  “In Saint Thomas. Said you got the medal of honor. Showed me a clipping from...what was the name of that paper?” She tapped her chin then snapped her fingers. “The Daily Advantage.”

  “The Daily Advance?” His voice, when it emerged, sounded as though he’d strangled it.

  “Yeah. That’s what I said.”

  “It’s the local paper in Elizabeth City, North Carolina. My last assignment before here. How did she have it?”

  “Well. You know. We do get mail once in a while, even if we live at the end of the world.” She settled back in her chair, extended her legs and crossed one ankle over the other. “Maybe she subscribes.”

  Dylan leaned forward and dropped his elbows on the table. His steepled fingers concealed his mouth and the tip of his nose. “But why...?”

  “Gee,” she shrugged, trying hard to keep her tender concern from showing too much. Dylan needed tough love. Maybe a kick in the ass, too. “I don’t know...seeing as she has absolutely no interest in you. Not to mention that you’re irritating as hell.”

  “Huh.”

  Despite her best efforts to stay tough, a tear nipped the corner of her eye as she watched Dylan grapple with this contradictory portrayal of the family he’d thought didn’t care.

  “Just hear her out, Dylan. For me.”

  “Okay,” he said after a long minute. “But next time, you’re the one lying on my couch, doc.”

  “Will I have to get naked for that exam?” She batted her eyes.

  He sucked in a fast breath. “I intend to be quite thorough.”

  She shivered at the sizzling promise in his eyes. Downed a final gulp of her coffee and licked her lips. “Then I’ll see you on the boat.”

  “Naked,” he called after her, loud enough to make the wailing baby hush and a waitress bearing a drink-laden tray halt.

  “With bells on,” she replied, laughing, then blew him a kiss before slipping out the door.

  After signing off with Dylan’s delighted-sounding mother, Nolee wandered down
to the dock. Heavy snow drifted from the leaden sky, catching on her eyelashes, the tip of her nose. She pulled up her scarf and thrust her gloved hands inside her parka.

  Had she gotten through to Dylan?

  For his sake, she hoped so.

  After meeting with his mom, maybe he’d stop making quick judgments and begin to see that there were more sides to every story, every issue, than just his own.

  She stopped to lean against the railing of a small footbridge and watched a laboring crew chip ice off their lines.

  Her father had been a crab fisherman, her mother once told her...one of the rare times she’d divulged anything about the man who’d abandoned them.

  Her cousins had called him a magician. When she was born, he’d simply disappeared, they’d joked. Her chest squeezed at the memory of her laughing relatives. She’d joined in with them then, telling herself she didn’t care, but she did, she saw now. Still.

  Very much.

  Her fingers tightened on the slick rail as a sense of vertigo twisted through her. An endless fall.

  Dylan had run away from his family. Her? She’d stayed put. But those weren’t two different things after all. She’d avoided her father, too. Her mother had said she hadn’t stayed in Kodiak for a love of the place.

  Could she mean that Nolee stayed here because of her father? A crab fisherman. Was it possible she’d gone into his profession wanting to show she was worthy? Not someone to be rejected, dismissed?

  She’d always hoped he’d find her someday, but why hadn’t she ever thought to go find him?

  Fear.

  Fear of rejection, came the swift, hard answer. Her father’s rejection had made her feel as though she wasn’t good enough. That the outside world would judge her and find her lacking and unworthy, too. Perhaps she needed to reevaluate.

  Who was she working so hard for? Pushing to be such a young captain for? Taking chances, as Dylan pointed out? Perhaps she’d been trying to prove herself to a father who had no relevance in terms of who she really was.

  She resumed her walk, her boots tracking through the accumulating snow. If she was wrong about her father, she might also be mistaken about Dylan. Hadn’t she been as guilty as he was in making snap judgments without thinking things through?